


Half and Half

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I guess Thrandy is around the teenagish century?, Reader-Insert, Thranduil has emotions, budding emotions, half elf/half dwarf reader, prince Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Thranduil can't keep his mind off the half-elf/half-dwarf girl that was assigned to work in his chambers. He seeks a way to spend more time with her.</p><p>Elvish word credit goes to: http://www.elfdict.com/translate.php?term=meleth&ajax=false#come!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talk to Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley/gifts), [Noidentity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Noidentity).



            “Thank you, that will be all for today. You are dismissed.”

            The girl bowed to him, quietly wished him a good evening and slipped from the prince’s chambers.

            Thranduil watched her leave, blue eyes following her figure. The half-elf-half-dwarf had taken sanctuary in the Woodland Realm with his father’s blessing several month previous after running away for reasons untold. Since then he had been having difficulty keeping her off his mind. Though she had been assigned to keep his chambers in order he had barely spoken to her; barely a word beyond orders to fetch this or that or to tell her she was dismissed for the day, and always in the common tongue. Apparently her knowledge of her elvish heritage was limited, especially in regards to the language. 

            Thranduil stood and began wandering the halls. Walking helped him think, and few disturbed the King’s son when he looked busy walking somewhere important. He considered her carefully. She was shorter than most elves, curvier, her eyes were bright, but with an edge that was exclusive to dwarves. The dwarfish heritage was obvious, but so was the elvish. She walked almost silently, and she seemed to glide, her movements gentle and graceful. He wondered how to talk to her, to spend time with her, get to know her without arousing the suspicion of his father or anyone who might tell his father.

            “Too-low? no, that does not sound right. Tow-lo? Nope,” a soft feminine voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked around and realised he was in the section of rooms reserved for his father’s household staff, maids, valets, healers. He listened carefully, ear pressed to the door. Papers rustled and the girl released a very un-elf-like growl of frustration. “I’m never going to be able to pronounce this.”

            Thranduil smiled to himself, an idea popping in his head he knocked on the door before he could think about how risky his idea was.

            “It’s open.”

            Thranduil let himself in and took in the sight of the half-elf before him, hunched over papers spread over a small tables, ink stains on her fingers, hair ruffled from hands running through it in frustration. He stood there silently until she turned to look at him.

            “Oh, My Lord! I’m so sorry, I did not realise, I mean, I,” she stammered, words running together, rising to bow to him.

            “Stop,” Thranduil raised a hand to ease her. “I was passing by and overheard you. I did not come here as a prince, but as an interested passerby,” he chuckled, amused by how nervous he made her. If only she knew how nervous she made him.

            You on the other hand were still freaking out. “Overheard me, My Lord? I did not realise I was speaking so loudly. My apologies for disturbing you.” Your head tilted to the ground, embarrassed.

            “You weren’t. I have pretty good hearing, and I could not help but hear your attempts at learning elvish.”

            You stayed silent. Not knowing what to say.

            “Sit, and we shall talk. No titles, no formalities. I cannot remember the last time I was able to have a normal chat,” Thranduil offered, motioning her into her seat. He pulled another from the corner and sat next to her. “Now, this is better,” he smiled.

            “This is very nice, My-“ a look from Thranduil cut you off before you could finish his title.

            “Call me Thranduil. What name would you like to go by? I know my father gave you an elvish name, but what do you prefer?”

            “My given name is Y/N,” you said softly, uncomfortable with being so casual around royalty.

            “Y/N,” Thranduil whispered, trying it out. “That is beautiful. I do not know why my father would want to change it.”

            You smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. It’s a family name.”

            Thranduil smiled. You were beginning to slowly relax around him. Taking walks really did solve problems. “Now, I believe you were trying to teach yourself elvish as I walked past?”

            “Yes, but I cannot seem to make progress. When anyone here speaks, it flows like water, or music. When I try it comes out broken, and none of the vowels are pronounced correctly, even when I’ve heard people say it many times.”

            “Well you’ve only been here a short while. A few months is not long to learn a language, much less master it. Especially when it is so different from your native tongue.”

            “Khuzdul is very different in many ways. Harsh and complicated -  like learning to fight, but it seems that elvish is just as complicated, only gentle instead of harsh - like learning to play an instrument.”

            “I always found music to be a joy to learn,” Thranduil said, hoping to be encouraging.

            “I was always better with a blade than a harp,” you whispered, unsure why you were telling this to the prince of the Woodland Realm.

            “Then that is something else we can work on.”

            “We can … what?”

            “It is nearly impossible to learn a language on your own. Let me help you. And once you’ve learned Elvish, we can work on your instrument skills,” Thranduil said, as though it should be obvious what he meant.

            “Why?”

            “Why what?”

            “Please, do not think me rude, I just do not understand why you would want to teach me. Surely you have more important things to tend to than helping a servant learn elvish.”

            “You aren’t just any servant,” Thranduil paused. Should he tell you? “You work for me. You keep my chambers in order. You knowing Elvish will make things better for both of us. And as for the music - that’s mostly selfish. I prefer to listen than to play,” he lied smoothly.

            You nodded, signalling that you understood.

            “Is that an agreement to take me as your tutor?”

            “Yes, My Lord.”

            “One condition,” Thranduil held up a single long finger, eyes hard, making it plain that he was serious.

            “Yes, My Lord?”

            “During our sessions, you will call me Thranduil.”

            “As you wish, My Lord.”

            “Thranduil,” he corrected. “Say it,” he ordered softly, but you hesitated. “You may as well get used to it. It takes a long time to learn Elvish,” he said rather softy.

            “Thranduil,” you whispered.

            “What was that? The wind?” He teased you gently, a smile on his face. 

            “Thranduil,” you said slightly louder.

            “Not the wind, a bird perhaps?”

            “Thranduil!” You almost shouted his name. He broke out into a grin as you slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide. Anyone could have heard that, and rumours about you shouting the prince’s name in your bedroom would be awful.

            “That is much better,” he chuckled. “It is late, and we must both get to bed. Meet me in the library after supper tomorrow,” he moved his chair back to it's spot in the corner and moved to the door. “Tolo,” he said, turning to face you again.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Tolo. The word you were trying pronounce earlier. It means ‘hurry up,’ or ‘come.’”

            “Tolo,” you said the word and he nodded in approval. "Thank you, Thranduil,” you beamed at him. He smiled back.

            “Goodnight, Y/N.”

            “Goodnight, Thranduil.”

            The prince walked out and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the door, eyes closed, the soft smile of one who is in love spreading across his face. He had talked to her, spent time with her, would spend more time with her, but the best part was that she said his name, and smiled at him while she said. _“Oh yes,”_ he thought, _“this is very promising."_

            On the other side of the door you sighed, thinking about the way his blue eyes had pierced you, how he made you feel relaxed, how he wanted to teach you. You were never going to get over your crush on him this way, but _“how could I say no to being tutored by the prince, especially when learning Elvish was so important,”_ you rationalized. You smiled to yourself. _“Oh, this is going to be very tricky.”_


	2. Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few months since Thranduil offered to give you lessons, and your progress is slow but steady. Today, instead of a lesson, he has something else in mind.
> 
> This is probably not nearly as decent as the first chapter because I'm a bit under the weather, but I really wanted to write, so, sorry if this is no good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably not nearly as decent as the first chapter because I'm a bit under the weather, but I really wanted to write, so, sorry if this is no good.

            You had been meeting with Prince Thranduil in the library for several months now. Your elvish was progressing steadily. Though it seemed very slow to you, Thranduil kept insisting that you were doing very well. You loved it when he would say “ _bain_ ,” meaning “good” or “ _gwain_ ,” meaning “fair.” 

            Your crush had not lessened, not that you had expected it to. You knew it was a hopeless crush that would never work out, but you could not help but admire him. His determination could not be compared to anyone you had ever known. On days when you wanted to give up he refused to let you; even when he was clearly not in the mood for calm and patient tutoring he would not cancel the lesson, but instead chat with you in a mix of the common tongue and elvish, occasionally throwing in a new word or phrase for you to figure out.

            You walked into the library and saw Thranduil already at the table. He was sitting back in his chair, silvery hair fanned out on his shoulders, eyes closed, making the dark eyelashes even more stunning against his pale skin. 

            “Sorry.” You did not know why you were apologising already. “Am I late?”

            “No.” He did not open his eyes. “I just got here early.”

            “Oh.” You sat down opposite him. " _Manwa_?” (Ready.)

            He opened his eyes, letting them focus on you. “Want to just skip the lesson for today?”

            “You never let me skip,” you said, even though you were thinking “ _What is the matter with you?_ ”

            “Yes, well, today I am.”

            “Why?”

            Thranduil sighed. He should come clean, tell her how he felt, but how could he when she looked at him so innocently? With those bright eyes and full pink lips … he snapped back to reality. “I just thought you might like a break, since you’ve been working so hard.”

            “I don’t mind. It doesn’t really feel like work when I study with you,” you admitted, wondering if he would notice the pink that tinted your cheeks.

            His eyes lingered on your cheeks. Surely that blush couldn’t mean that she liked him? “Well, how about we just chat for a bit, then?”

            “Okay.” You smiled, closed lipped. The smile did not reach your eyes, and Thraduil could not figure out why.

            “Carfa O aureg,” he said (Talk about your day.)

            You thought for a moment, still having to take time to translate things in your head before you could respond. “I-caimasan, ummm, boe poita, yando i- … i-hammad boe poita," (The bedchamber, ummm, needed cleaning and the … the clothing needed cleaning). You stumbled through your sentence. You could do the grammar, but just conversing and having to remember everything still daunted you.

            “A’min mella le,” Thranduil said, barely above a whisper.

            “You what?”

            “Nothing. I misspoke. I was going to say that you did a good job, but I … miss-spoke,” he finished, feeling very lame.

            “Oh. The way you spoke made it sound important.”

            “Tolo di en?” (Come with me?)

            You nodded. Thranduil looked nervous, thick brows furrowed until they almost looked like one, a line of perfect teeth biting down on a perfectly plump lip. He stood and led you out of the library and down the hall. You had to practically run to keep up with his long steps.

            “Slow down, I can barely keep up,” you whisper. Instead of slowing the prince grabed your hand, dragging you along with him. You stumbled along after him and after many turns and twists, he brought you to a garden you had never been to before. The sky was dark and there were rain clouds blocking the stars. The late fall air was chilly and the wind made you shiver a bit, but Thranduil did not notice.

            “Y/N,” he whispered. His back to you, his hand still holding yours.

            “Thranduil?” 

            “Y/N, forgive me. I have not been honest with you, and the guilt is weighing on me. I did not offer to teach you because it would makes things easier for both of us. I did it because it meant that I could spend time with you and no one would question it, but I know some have noticed: the way I look at you, how much time we spend in the library, how my eyes follow you everywhere. I have made fools of both of us, and for that I am sorry,” his voice stayed soft, the usual creaminess intact. 

            You stood silently, biting your lip and looking at the ground. Your hand squeezed his, trying to comfort him, but he misunderstood and let go, thinking that you did not want to be so close. He stepped away, but turned to face you.

            “I do not expect you to feel the attraction I do, but you deserve my honesty,” his voice gained strength as he spoke. He held his body as he would if he were with his father: perfect posture, head held high and proud, a demanding presence that seemed to grip anyone around. His eyes were the only thing that did not fit the image you saw. The piercing blue eyes of your prince were sad, embarrassed, and desperate. You could tell that he ached for an answer.

            “Thank you, for your honesty. With all due respect, I do not think it is you that they have noticed,” you said, trying to match his posture and confidence. “I have been watching you for so long. When you sit at your desk working I cannot keep myself from watching you, wishing that you looked at me the way you look at your papers - completely lost to the outside world. I day dream, and it distracts me from my work. My superiors think I have trouble adjusting to a life so different, but you are the only thing I cannot adjust to,” you said. You had never spoken so much at once and you knew you had surprised the ellon in front of you.

            “I do not believe I have ever heard you speak so much at once, Y/N,” he smiled down at you. He took a step closer.

            “I doubt you will again,” you smiled back, taking a step in his direction.

            “Y/N?”

            “Yes, Thranduil?”

            “Kiss me,” he breathed, reaching a hand up to stroke your cheek gently. You did not respond, but let your eyes do the talking, locking with his, begging him to lean down to you. You stood on tiptoes, your head tilting to the side slightly. He leaned down and finished closing the gap. His lips felt like velvet against yours. After only a moment with his lips pressed gently to yours, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him, the other hand holding your cheek, deepening the kiss. He took dominance and you let him. His tongue curled around yours and you found your hands tangling in his long silver locks, preventing him from pulling away. Your lungs were aching for air, but you did not want to separate from the kiss.  Thranduil pulled away from the kiss but rested his forehead against yours. He was panting just as hard as you were. You kept your eyes closed as a smile spread over your lips.

            “That was fun,” he chuckled. His laugh did funny things to you, making you want to throw yourself on him again, but you resisted.

            “Very,” you agreed between pants.

            “Y/N,” he said more seriously, pulling back to look at you, “would you allow me to court you?”

            “Will your father allow it?” You had not been expecting that question. Dating the prince came with a lot of strings attached, and though you would have gladly dealt with any and all of them, you did not think you would be able to pass the king’s approval. 

            “I care not what he allows. I would be with you, if _you_ will allow it,” he said, eyes seeming to burn into yours.

            You smiled and curtsied. “I would be honoured, my prince.”

            He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Thranduil,” he corrected gently. “You better get used to it; you will only call me by it from now on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The elvish in this chapter comes from http://www.elfdict.com/translate.php?term=meleth&ajax=false#my
> 
> The grammar probably is not correct, I just kind of put together what I could look up.
> 
> Thank you, Noidentity, for requesting another chapter to this story.
> 
> I do not own anything/one that you recognize.


	3. Promising Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has to defend your relationship to his father.

            Thranduil cracked his eyes open, knowing that the sun was high in the sky already, but it was Saturday so he did not care. All he had on his schedule was lunch with his father then finding his lady. You had been reassigned to the care and up keep of the guest rooms because you found it distracting and inappropriate to work in his chambers. You felt more comfortable with the arrangement, but it meant that he had seen less of you in the past few months.

            Groaning and stretching, the prince reluctantly forced himself out of bed and dressed. He wished you were there to run your hands through his hair and sort out all the knots for him before placing his circlet on his head. He loved it when you did that. He also loved the way you had to stand on your tip toes to kiss even the tip of his chin, the way your eyes closed when you were lying in the grass soaking up the sun, the way you used him as a pillow when you read aloud to him in elvish, showing him how much your elvish had improved in the nearly ten months since he had started teaching you.

            Now that he thought about it, he loved pretty much everything about you: your smile, laugh, eyes, the odd accent that you just couldn’t shake when you spoke elvish no matter how hard you tried. He loved how you had finally stopped treating him like a prince, how you sent him cheeky smiles when he passed you in the halls, how you looked at him, as though he were the most important person in Middle Earth. You made him feel special, loved, cherished. Not that his father didn’t, but it was different with you.

            A knock came from the door and the young prince snapped out of his thoughts, realising that he was close to being late to meet his father. He jumped to his feet, and rushed out the door.

 

            Thranduil entered the small private dining room and saw his father standing with his back to the door, looking at a painting recently sent from a nearby town, honouring a treaty made between it and the elven kingdom.

            “It has come to my attention that you have been spending an extraordinary amount of time with Areth,” Oropher said, his back to his son.

            “I have been helping her learn Elvish,” Thranduil said, heart beating fast. He knew his father knew about his relationship with you, but that did not mean he was going cave.

            “And going for strolls, and meeting late at night,” the elven king turned sharply to face his son. “Do you care so little for elvish tradition that you would pursue a cheap dalliance with a half-breed?”

            “Half-breed?” Thranduil’s voice broke a bit. “You took her in; gave her a home. How can you demean her by calling her that? She is as much an elleth as any other in this kingdom.”

            “And you are a prince that is sneaking around with her at night. Do you see how bad this looks?”

            “And if I had come to you openly, and said that I was going to court her? What would you have said then? You would have forbidden it, but you cannot forbid love, Ada. It happens whether you want it or not, and I would rather have you angry at me and be with Y/N than be miserable without her.”

            “Y/N? Going back to her dwarfish heritage now, are we?”

            “It is her name.”

            “Her name is Areth, ion. We agreed on that.”

            “And she will answer if you call her by it, but to me she answers to her given name. A name that suits her.”

            Oropher looked at his son as if he were trying to solve a math problem, except he could not figure out his son by writing it out on paper.

            “I love her. Ada,” Thranduil said, his voice soft and tender, the way it always was when he thought of you.

            “Love? You are not old enough to understand love. What you have is an infatuation with something different. It’s exciting, but it is fleeting, and when it is gone you will have a servant that you cannot stand to be around and a kingdom laughing at you,” Oropher chuckled as if to prove his point.

            “You do not know what is in my heart. I know how I feel. It matters not what anyone else thinks, even you, Ada,” Thranduil no longer cared what his father could do to him. He wanted to be with you.

            “Fine,” Oropher threw his hands in the air. “Throw away elvish customs; enjoy your little romance; profess your undying love to one another, but when it ends, do not come crying to me,” his voice was cold and hard, as though he were talking to the leader of an enemy army, not his own son.

            They ate lunch in silence, barely looking at each other. Thranduil could not believe that his father could be so uncaring that he was happy with someone. Oropher was still trying to absorb the fact that his son was grown and in love, and had not deigned to tell him.

 

            Thranduil found you in your chambers, napping. You had two days off a week and you spent them sleeping late, then in the library reading until someone, usually him, came to drag you to supper then to bed.

            There were books spread around you: a book in elvish, a dictionary, and a notebook. He smiled softly. “Ever the academic,” he whispered to himself. Quietly closing the door behind him, he moved into the room. Without disturbing you he marked the spots in your books and set them on your small table, before sitting on the bed beside you. He brushed a lock of your hair out of your face, causing your face to scrunch slightly in your sleep. His hand hovered over your cheek for a moment. 

            An internal debate raged inside him. You looked so peaceful while you slept, face smushed into the mattress, hair sprawled everywhere, body at what should be an uncomfortable position. “Not a graceful sleeper, but a peaceful one,” he thought, not wanting to wake you. But he needed to talk to you about what his father said, about how he felt, how you felt. _That’s what I really want,_ he thought _. I want to confirm how she feels, because I let him get to me_.

            You shifted, slowly coming back to reality. You had not intended to fall asleep, had not even known it was happening. There was something different in the room; even though you had not opened your eyes, you could feel it. After your eyes adjusted to the light you saw Thranduil sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you.

            “Good morning,” you said as you stretched.

            “Morning, hunh?” He chuckled, the crooked smile you loved so much gracing his face.

            “If I wake up, then it is morning.”

            “I believe the sun would say that you are off schedule a bit, meleth,” he ran a hand through your sleep mussed hair.

            “It is the sun that is of schedule, Hallaer (tall one),” you sat up and scooted closer to him. “Do you make a habit of coming in here while I sleep?”

            “Not as of yet,” he kissed you lightly on the lips. “I came to talk to you, actually,” his voice became serious and the smile dropped from his face.

            “Is something wrong?”

            “Yes and no. Ada knows about us. I do not who told him, but he found out, and he confronted me about it.”

            Your body had tensed, and you watched him carefully for any clues to how he felt. “What happened?” You finally managed to ask in a small voice.

            “He said that it was a fleeting dalliance and that I do not know what love is,” he said, hand reaching out to hold yours.

            _Love? Love? had he really just said the word “love?”_ You took a deep breath. “Love?”

            “Yes, Y/N,” Thranduil turned to look at you. His smile was shy, but his grip on your hand was firm. “I love you.”

            Your mouth dropped open slightly. You knew you loved him. You knew he was nothing that you had ever wanted, but that he was everything you needed. You knew what it meant for an elf to be in love, that it was forever, in life and in death.

            “Y/N? Please say something. Anything,” he was growing nervous. _Does she not love me back? What do I do if she does not? How do I go on? Do I give her more time? Hope that her feelings grow?_

            “Thranduil, I love you, too,” you smiled and squeezed his hand. You could see the worry ease from his features as your words sunk in, the wide smile that reached his eyes.

            “Oh, Y/N,” he breathed as he pulled you into a back-crushing hug, he had very strong arms to be so lean. You hugged him back, his scent surrounding you. “You have made me the happiest ellon in this world.”

            “Then we have made each other the happiest, and no other couple could more cheerful than us,” you whispered back.

            He pulled back a bit so he could look into your eyes. “Ada is not happy about us. I told him that all that mattered to me was that I was with someone who made me happy, because without you I would be miserable.”

            “Thranduil, he is your father, and the king,” you chastised lightly, but you could not hide how happy you were that he had stood up for your relationship.

            “I know. And I know that it is not going to be easy for you to be with me now, but I think we can make it. If we show him how much we love each other, he will give us his blessing.”

            He sounded so enthusiastic. You lifted a hand to run through his hair, noting how his eyes closed in pleasure as your fingers slipped through the feather-soft strands. “And if he does not?”

            His glacier blue eyes held your e/c ones. “Then we stay together anyway. Run away and get married. Go live with the dwarves if we have to. As long as we are together, melamin.”

            “Gwaen ná baddh, non-aer,” you smiled and stroked his cheek. (I go where you go, my one.) He leaned into your touch until his forehead touched yours, noses brushing.

             His lips met yours in a sweet and tender kiss that promised an eternity together, no matter what anyone said. His hands around your waist promised that he would never let you go, never forsake you. You arms around his neck promised that you would never leave him, even though his father was bound to be a pain.

            "Amin mela lle, Arwenamin.” (I love you, my lady).

            "Amin mela lle, Heruamin.” (I love you, my lord).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the conclusion! Sorry it took so long - life is getting busy (and I don't like it). [I'm afraid Thrandy got a bit OOC toward the end, but who knows what he was like in his prince days?] Thank you to everyone who has read this story (or will read this), and thank you for all the comments and kudos! I don't own anything.
> 
> Also this was written in about an hour and is unbeta-ed so I will fix any spelling/grammar mistakes as I notice them.
> 
> Elvish translations come from: http://www.grey-company.org/Circle/language/phrase.htm#positive  
> and: http://www.elfdict.com/#precious%20thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request - and I'm so sorry it took so long. I've had it written for a while, but bad internet access and a busy schedule! Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it. I don't own anything that you recognize. I love taking requests, even if I am slow with them - I just don't do sad endings (too much of that in reality and the movies) or incest. I appreciate every read, like, and kudos - so thank you!


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